


Pillow Prompt - A Fluffy Castiel Drabble

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Fluffy drabble based on the item/object prompt: Pillow





	

The sound of metal clattering in a truck bed as it trundled over a speed bump in the motel parking lot startled you from an uneasy slumber. You squinted against the street light streaming through a narrow gap in the curtains. Groaning, you punched the pillow and rolled over, equally surprised to discover a slump shouldered Castiel sitting on the other side of the mattress, “Cas?” Your voice cracked dryly, “What time is it?” You didn’t care about the time, but it was the first thing that sprang to mind as your heart began to beat faster, a thick lump forming in your throat. Cas had gone with the Winchesters to clear a vamp nest while you investigated demon signs in a neighboring state. Your mind raced thinking his unexpected presence now meant the worst - something had gone wrong.

The angel barely stirred, flicking his wrist, using his grace to switch on the bedside lamp.

“Cas, say something,” you sat up, hugging the pillow and clutching your fingers anxiously into the thin pillowcase, “what’s wrong?”

“Sam and Dean are fine,” he stated gruffly.

“That’s not what I asked,” you flinched at his bristling tone.

“It’s what you were thinking,” his chin fell to his chest, shoulders sagging impossibly deeper.

“Okay, but it’s still not what I asked,” you moved to your knees, crawling to the middle of the bed, hesitantly outstretching a hand toward him, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, voice now edged in defeat.

“And as a human I know full well that fine is code for anything but fine,” you committed to the action, palm flattening to his tensely knotted back, “I expect the same reasoning holds true for angels.” You felt his chest expand and contract with a deep and unnecessary breath under your touch, “Cas, you know you can talk to me. About anything.”

He subtly nodded, “I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you do,” you rubbed his back reassuringly.

“I don’t belong anywhere,” he drooped forward, crossing his arms, elbows resting on his knees, continuing as though he hadn’t heard your words, “I try to do what’s right and it never turns out as I intended.”

“Doing the right thing doesn’t always guarantee the right outcome,” you frowned at the back of his head, desperately wanting to throw your arms around him and show him that everything was going to be alright. But it wasn’t like that between you. He’d never acted as anything other than a friend with you and although you’d silently given your heart to the angel years ago, you gladly accepted and returned the friendship that was offered.

“Everything I care about turns against me, or worse, I destroy it,” he closed his eyes with a sharp sigh, bringing his hands to his face.

“Not everything,” you frowned. Whatever argument he was having with the Winchesters this time, he still had you. And since he was here now, some part of him knew it. You hated seeing the angel doubt himself and you knew you had to snap him out of it before he did something rash. Your eyes fell to the pillow in your lap. Hands moving almost of their own volition, you grasped the end of the pillow and raised it over your head bringing it down upon the angel with a satisfying thwack. Cas recoiled, deftly springing to a stand and spinning on his heel to peer at you with a stunned countenance. You leapt at him, a fierce grin peeling across your face, again swinging the pillow with all the strength you could muster and hitting your target square in the chest. Cas simply stared at you, blue eyes wide and swirling with bewilderment. “Defend yourself,” you huffed with a thump to your chest, blowing a stray puff of down from your nose, “or concede defeat.”

He studied your less than imposing figure intently, noting for the first time your perfectly sleep mussed hair, rumpled tank top, ill-fitting sweatpants, and the love and acceptance radiating from your soul. Features softening, his lips involuntarily twitched into the smallest of smiles. This time, when you wound the pillow back for another strike, he was ready, arm coming across his face to block your attack as his other hand reached behind to grab a pillow from the double bed. He swung it at your knees, carefully hitting only hard enough to cause you to lose balance and collapse backward onto the bed with a gentle bounce. You laughed wildly with delight, squealing as you rolled off the end of the bed to avoid another trouncing from his pillow. The angel was fully grinning when you whacked him across the shoulder, your pillow exploding into a cascade of fluffy feathers drifting like snow to the floor around you. A joyful chuckle escaped his chest, and as you gazed at him in wonder you couldn’t recall ever having heard a sweeter sound. He dropped his pillow, holding up his arms, eyes searching yours, “Truce?” You nodded breathlessly, biting your still grinning lower lip. He extended an open palm to you, pulling you into his firm chest when you accepted it, so close you could feel his breath fanning hotly across your face as he spoke, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Your eyes fluttered from his sparkling blues to his pouting mouth and back, “For what?”

In reply his full soft lips found yours, white down settling over and around both of you as the angel at last realized exactly where he belonged.


End file.
